


Krisho no Basuke

by bespokenboy



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Canon, Fluff, M/M, Smut, Weeb Suho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-05 00:00:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3097445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bespokenboy/pseuds/bespokenboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are few things that Joonmyun loves more than anime. Duizhang is one of them. Non-AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Krisho no Basuke

  
It's not something that Yifan can talk about with any of the other members. There are so many obstacles they must face together–vocal instructors, dance coaches, company executives, critics–that any internal strife would crumble their fragile foundation of trust. Theirs is a group of barely's and almost's: some almost debuting again and again, many barely even making it into the company to begin with.   
  
There is no way that Yifan can reveal to any of the other members how much he can't stand the other leader, Kim Joonmyun. He's too extroverted, overachieving, and nosy, always asking everyone if they're hungry and offering to buy snacks if they are. Terrible. Now that they're all living together in the same dorm, Yifan cannot rid himself of Joonmyun, who, for some reason, insists on treating Yifan like one of his youngers.   
  
"Kris!" Joonmyun chirps, poking his head through Yifan's door.   
  
"What do you want."   
  
"I just wanted to check to see how you're doing!"  
  
He sidles onto a chair beside Yifan's bed and swings his legs back and forth, grinning expectantly at Yifan.   
  
"I'm doing fine," Yifan responds curtly and resumes looking at his laptop screen.   
  
"Are you sure? Is there anything you're worried or stressed about? You know you can always talk to hyun–I mean, me."  
  
"I'm fine," he repeats.   
  
"Ah...okay. If you say so."  
  
Yifan continues typing out his message, jabbing the keys with unnecessary vehemence.   
  
"What are you doing?" Joonmyun asks curiously.   
  
"Talking about you."  
  
"R-really? Did you say something nice?"  
  
"No."  
  
"...Oh..."  
  
He is quiet after that, but he still doesn't leave the room. Yifan gradually comes to the realization that he might have hurt Joonmyun's feelings.   
  
"Don't be stupid," Yifan says. "Of course I wasn't talking about you. I was talking about League, for your information."  
  
"Oh. Um, if you say so..."  
  
"Yes, now please leave me alone. I wish you wouldn't pry so much."  
  
"I just wanted to see how you're doing," Joonmyun mumbles.   
  
"You don't have to take care of me. I'm older than you, remember?"  
  
"Well, I don't want you to take care of me, either," Joonmyun snaps defiantly.   
  
"Fine."  
  
"...Are you hungry?"  
  
"No. Go away."  
  
" _Fine_."  
  
Yifan rolls his eyes as Joonmyun stomps off childishly, but closes the door carefully behind him. He's so thoughtful and considerate that he can't even make a rude exit properly.   
  
 _He's just too polite_ , Yifan types, adding another item to the running list of things he dislikes about Joonmyun.   
  
 _What did he do this time?_  his friend types back.   
  
Since he can't talk to anyone in the dorm about his Joonmyun problems, Yifan has had to reach out to his childhood friends. Song Bing Yang has been his friend since middle school, when he went by Kevin. He still calls him Kevin, but Yifan never corrects him. It reminds him of a time when he was a small town kid with big dreams.   
  
 _He keeps checking in on me. It's like he can't leave me alone._  
  
 _You can't leave him alone, either_ , his friend points out.  _He's all you ever talk about, if you know what I mean._  
  
 _What are you trying to say?  
  
I've known you for a long time, Kevin. You only act this way when you really like something...or someone.   
  
What?!?  
  
Haha, well you've been talking to me about Joonmyun almost as much as we talked about basketball when we were kids.   
  
But there's a difference. I like basketball. I don't like Joonmyun.   
  
Whatever you say, Kevin. _  
  
Yifan doesn't respond, just silently ruminates on the observation. He reluctantly understands his friend's reasoning, but he dismisses it.   
  
"Duizhang!"   
  
Even though they share a room, Zitao always knocks on the door and calls out for permission to enter. Unlike Joonmyun, who takes the liberty of invading Yifan's personal space at his own whim.   
  
"Zitao?"  
  
"Joonmyun-hyung bought us noodles for dinner. He wanted me to ask you if you wanted some."  
  
"He didn't want to ask me himself?"  
  
Zitao shrugs and returns to the kitchen, where his food awaits him. Yifan follows and is somewhat irked by the sight of Joonmyun shoveling noodles into his mouth, which is adorable in a way that Yifan doesn't want to admit. He doesn't understand why it irritates him when Joonmyun seeks him out, but also when Joonmyun doesn't seek him out.   
  
"Why did you buy noodles," he demands.   
  
"Because people were hungry," Joonmyun responds crossly. "Why are you rude."  
  
"I was supposed to buy dinner tonight!"  
  
"You never buy dinner."  
  
"That's what everybody thinks, but it's just because you always beat me to it!"  
  
"I asked if you were hungry."  
  
Joonmyun secures a few strands of noodles between his chopsticks and tries to feed it to Yifan, but Yifan swats his hand away.   
  
"What's your problem? I don't care if you're mean to me, but don't be this way when the other kids are around," Joonmyun hisses under his breath. "It doesn't look good for either of us."  
  
"I look better than you ever will," Yifan counters, hitting Joonmyun's most sensitive point. With that, he turns on his heel and saunters away.   
  
"Where are you going?" Joonmyun calls after him.   
  
"To my room."  
  
"We're going to run out of food. You're going to get hungry!"  
  
  
  
  
It takes all of Yifan's willpower to wait until everyone else has fallen asleep to return to the kitchen. For the sake of his pride, he cannot risk running into Joonmyun again while scavenging for food. Apparently, Joonmyun anticipated Yifan searching for a midnight snack, because Yifan finds a food container filled with leftovers with a sticky note labeled "Reserved for Kris-hyung."  
  
Despite how much they disagree on issues such as personal space and privacy, Joonmyun seems to be incredibly attuned to Yifan. Though Yifan tries to deny them, Joonmyun has always searched for similarities between the two of them. They always had great aspirations, especially at a young age: Yifan wanted to be remembered by the world, while Joonmyun always wanted to save the world, like the heroes in his animes.   
  
Another similarity that neither of them are quite aware of is their mutual jumpiness. He may not look it, but Yifan is as easy to startle as Joonmyun is. They discover this as Yifan shuffles back to his room after finishing the leftovers. Yifan blindly navigates the dark hallway until he walks right into something warm and solid that screams and lashes out at him. Yifan's first instinct is to scream and flail back at whatever it was he bumped into. A few seconds of screaming and thrashing pass until Yifan has the presence of mind to reach out to flip on a light switch to illuminate the hallway.  
  
“Joonmyun? What are you doing up so late?” he whispers fiercely.  
  
“I heard someone in the kitchen, I thought it might be you. I was going to make you tea or something.”  
  
“You didn’t have to do that.”  
  
“But I wanted to! And I was hoping we could talk.”  
  
“About what?” Yifan asks warily.  
  
“I don’t know, anything you want to. I just thought it would be good for us to spend more time together.”  
  
“We already have our leadership meetings though, isn’t that for us to talk to each other?”  
  
"Yeah, but–"  
  
"Then we're good. Come on, we should both go back to bed. You look the most handsome when you're well rested."  
  
"Really? You think I'm handsome?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
Yifan receives a bright, but bleary-eyed smile in return that lingers in his mind as he rests his head on his pillow later that night. It is still etched into his eyelids even when he wakes up the next morning, with a smile curving his own lips.   
  
  
  
  
Joonmyun shoots him a look of warning when Yifan tries to pull his thumb away from Joonmyun's grip. His hand is so small in comparison to Yifan's that even though his entire fist is wrapped around the digit, the tip of Yifan's thumb still peeks out quite visibly. Suddenly, all Yifan can think of is how Joonmyun's fist would look wrapped around his cock, and—they're in the middle of a concert, so Yifan tries to repress his urges as much as he can, though the innocent skin contact is driving him insane.   
  
Touchiness is encouraged when they are onstage, but Yifan strongly dislikes how the feeling of Joonmyun's skin against his own makes his blood pound uncomfortably against the walls of his veins. The smaller leader grins up at him with cheery, but teasing crescent eyes, and Yifan bares his teeth back at him in an uncomfortable smile.   
  
Beckoning for Yifan to lean down for him, Joonmyun stands on his tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "You have pretty eyes, did you know that?"  
  
The public display of intimacy makes the crowd go wild, and Joonmyun casually places a possessive hand on Yifan's chest as though he is gloating. Yifan scowls because he dislikes how generous Joonmyun is with his compliments, but especially because he hates how he feels his face warming at Joonmyun's words and touch. Joonmyun laughs at his expression and pokes Yifan's cheek, pressing up to lift the corner of Yifan's mouth into a bizarre half-smile. Yifan snatches Joonmyun's hands and secures them between his own in a vice-like grip to prevent the other leader's further mischief. Joonmyun gapes at Yifan in shock and tries to squirm away, but Joonmyun's resistance to Yifan's enormous paws is entirely futile.   
  
Eventually, Yifan frees Joonmyun from his yaoi hand grip of death, but he still holds onto one of Joonmyun’s hands just to keep the smaller leader within his sight. Joonmyun, however, seems perfectly content with clinging onto Yifan's hand for the remainder of the concert.   
  
"That was nice," Joonmyun comments after they have changed and packed up.   
  
"What?" Yifan asks, watching as everyone else files into the vans.   
  
"The, um, skinship. It was nice."  
  
"Oh. Okay."  
  
Joonmyun's eyes are bent on the ground, rather than looking Yifan squarely in the face as he normally does.   
  
"I'll see you at the dorms, Yifan," he mumbles before following Sehun into their van.   
  
As the bus pulls away, Joonmyun peeks through the window to wave timidly at Yifan. He waves back, and Joonmyun smiles shyly at him until Yifan's driver honks at him to  _hurry up and get in the van_. He can almost hear Joonmyun's laughter as he scrambles into the vehicle. On the way back, all Yifan can think about is Joonmyun's smile—his bashful grins, his sly smirks, those brilliantly gleaming teeth that seem too large for his dainty face. He has the urge to vent to Song Bing Yang about how irritating and unsettling it is that Joonmyun never seems to stop smiling, but then he remembers his friend's words. Yifan only obsesses this much over something if he _really_ likes it.   
  
  
  
  
For some reason, Joonmyun seems to have the idea that holding hands with Yifan onstage gives him the right to continue touching him even when they're at home. He casually hooks an arm around Yifan's neck, standing on his tiptoes and stretching his arm at an awkward looking angle. Yifan asks if he feels uncomfortable in the position, but Joonmyun gives him a good-natured punch in the stomach with his free hand. The others swap puzzled glances because it's the first time they've seen the leaders exchange touches so casually.   
  
"Our maknaes are going to the cinema tonight," Joonmyun confides lowly. "I told Sehun that he could room with Zitao since they won't get back until it's late."  
  
"Wait, so you let Zitao have your bed for the night?"  
  
"No, I actually gave Sehun your bed for tonight, I hope you don't mind." Joonmyun smiles sheepishly in apology.   
  
"Then where will I sleep?" Yifan barks. He's not actually angry, but his tone startles Joonmyun, who suddenly steps away, recoiling from Yifan.   
  
"I-I'm sorry, Yifan, I hoped that you would want to sleep with me tonight. I mean, not  _sleep with me_ –unless you want to–but to share a room or something?"  
  
"Fine."  
  
As Joonmyun had half expected some kind of argument or protest, the ease with which Yifan agrees catches him by surprise, and he can't stop smiling as he leads Yifan by the hem of his shirt to his bedroom.   
  
"So," he begins nervously, "our room is a little messy right now, I hope you don't mind, but if you need anything, please don't hesitate in letting me know..."  
  
Yifan bursts into laughter and flings himself onto Joonmyun's bed. "Don't worry about it. I live just down the hallway, remember?" He feels strangely relaxed, though Joonmyun suddenly seems wary of him.   
  
"Oh, um, right. Well, I'm going to go get washed up..."  
  
There's no denying it at this point. Every time Yifan has laid his eyes on Joonmyun, he has felt something churning within him, but not once did he ever suspect that the feeling was affection. Yifan's denial of his own feelings had made Joonmyun's actions seem irritating, but now, his quirks are strangely endearing. He can barely keep his face calm enough to hide how much he enjoys being able to spend the night with Joonmyun, even if it means having to squeeze into a twin sized mattress with him.   
  
His eyes scan the room, assessing his surroundings for anything that might help him understand Joonmyun a little better. Joonmyun's and Sehun's belongings are nearly indistinguishable from each other—aside from clothing, they seem to share everything. Yifan recognizes Sehun's iPad plugged into a charger labeled "IPAD SUHO" extending from an outlet by the foot of Joonmyun's bed. He kneels on the ground to plug his own phone into the wall and notices a stack of papers peeking out from under Joonmyun's bed.   
  
He tugs one out from under the mattress, curious about what the other could be trying to hide from the casual passerby. He examines the glossy cover of what could only be a sports manga. Though Yifan is fluent and literate in a multitude of languages, Japanese is not one of them. The book has not been translated from its original language, but the illustrations make it clear enough that the story has something to do with basketball.   
  
He climbs back onto Joonmyun's bed and flips idly through the pages, trying to decipher the plot. From what Yifan can tell, the manga stars a short, perky basketball player who interacts often with a tall, stony-faced one. Perhaps he is delusional, but the shorter boy reminds him of Joonmyun...and the taller one reminds Yifan of himself.   
  
For a sports manga, there appears to be very few scenes where they're actually playing basketball. He keeps thumbing through the pages, wondering what its appeal to Joonmyun is. Can Joonmyun even read Japanese? But then, about halfway through, Yifan is so shocked by what he sees on the page that he forgets to even read from right to left.  
  
"What are you still doing on my bed?" Joonmyun asks when he returns from the bathroom, clad in oversized, threadbare pajamas.   
  
"You said that we would sleep together, right?"   
  
"As in we would share a room–not necessarily a bed–unless you, um, really want to."  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Clearly, you need to get your mind out of the gutter,” Joonmyun jokes uneasily as he slides into bed next to Yifan. “What’s that you’re reading?”  
  
Dodging the question, Yifan asks, “Isn’t your shirt a little bit big for you?”  
  
Joonmyun blushes and stammers, “I-it’s Sehun’s, I think. I must have taken it by accident or something. W-what are you doing?”  
  
Yifan had leaned in to sniff at the sleeve of the shirt, confirming his suspicion. One of his shirts had gone missing several weeks ago, a simple white tee with a plunging neckline that is even more pronounced as it hangs from Joonmyun’s shoulders. The distinctive scent of Yifan’s body wash still clings to the fabric, which Joonmyun only realizes after poking his nose under the collar and taking a deep inhale. Yifan does not comment aloud, saving Joonmyun from the embarrassment. Instead, he sweeps his gaze down the rest of Joonmyun’s body, from his bony shoulders to the patch of skin peeking out at his knee.  
  
“You need new pajama pants, this pair has a hole in it.”  
  
“I like them,” Joonmyun retorts.   
  
Yifan raises an eyebrow and sticks his fingers through the hole in Joonmyun’s pants to tickle his knee. “You're rich enough to buy yourself a new pair."  
  
"They're comfortable!" Joonmyun shrieks, as he writhes and tries to kick Yifan in defense.   
  
He rolls off the bed and clambers into Sehun's bed to escape from Yifan's tickles. The older boy chuckles and continues to read the manga on his lap.   
  
"What are you looking at?" Joonmyun demands. "Is that–?!"  
  
He propels himself back onto his own bed to wrestle the book out of Yifan's hands. His cheeks color in mortification when he realizes what the black and white lines on the page depict: the smaller basketball player is sitting in the lap of the taller one with their lips locked and their fingers curling in each other's shirts and hair.   
  
"I-it's not what it looks like, I can explain!"  
  
Joonmyun's eyes are glued to the floor in embarrassment, and the pages of the book flutter in his trembling hands.   
  
"What are you afraid of?" Yifan asks gently. "What are you thinking?"  
  
"I have no idea what you must think of me right now..."  
  
"I think," Yifan says, plucking the book from Joonmyun's fingers, "we should try what your cartoon friends are doing."  
  
"W-what?" Joonmyun raises his eyes to Yifan's teasing smirk. "Are you making fun of me?"  
  
"Of course not," Yifan says smoothly. "I was a little surprised, I didn't know you were into that kind of thing. It's kind of hot."  
  
"Hot?" Joonmyun's dark eyes are still uncertain, but his small cherry mouth looks so soft and so irresistible.   
  
"Yeah, now come sit in my lap. If you want."  
  
No words are necessary; it is clear by how quickly Joonmyun straddles Yifan's thighs that he had been itching for Yifan's acceptance. His cheek still burns pink and warm as he nestles his face against Yifan's neck.   
  
"You're so fucking adorable," Yifan says in English.   
  
Joonmyun's head immediately snaps up at the sound of the foreign tongue. "What did you say?"   
  
"Nothing."  
  
“What were those English words? Did you say something bad?"  
  
"No, of course not!"   
  
Struggling to mimic him, Joonmyun burbles, "Fff...fu...fuck? Ffuucckkk?"  
  
"Don't say that word!" Yifan hisses.   
  
"But you said it! So you did say something bad, then!"  
  
"I did not!"  
  
"Lies! Tell me what you said!"  
  
Joonmyun glares crossly at Yifan, who refuses to answer. When Yifan starts laughing at Joonmyun's unintentionally charming expression, the younger leader balls his hands into fists and pounds Yifan's chest in frustration.   
  
"You're so fucking adorable," Yifan repeats, and Joonmyun's face scrunches up in irritation. Before he can protest, Yifan tilts his head and mashes their lips together.   
  
Joonmyun grunts in surprise and stops struggling. The noise vibrates in Yifan's mouth, and he takes the opportunity to pull Joonmyun even closer until their chests are pressed flush against each other. Soon enough, Joonmyun is bending to Yifan's will: his body relaxes, and his jaw goes slack, allowing Yifan to touch his tongue to Joonmyun's.   
  
It's the little things that make Joonmyun a great leader. He smiles extra wide, remembers everyone's birthday, and gives encouragement when people need it the most. He is generous with his heart and has a way of making everyone feel like they're special and important. It's the little things he does that let Yifan know that he's doing the right thing and making Joonmyun feel good. The rock of Joonmyun's hips, the murmurs of approval stroke Yifan's ego and give him the courage to squeeze a hand between their chests.   
  
He scissors his fingers and tweaks a nipple between his knuckles, and Joonmyun shivers, breaking their kiss to breathe, "Yifan...please..."  
  
Yifan lifts Joonmyun from his lap and flips him over onto his back. He parts Joonmyun's thighs and crawls between them, slipping both hands under the hem of Joonmyun's (or more accurately, Yifan's) shirt to thumb at both his nipples at once. He pinches and pulls until they're completely stiff and almost unbearably sensitive, until Joonmyun is whimpering and panting for him to stop, somehow short of breath already.   
  
After giving Joonmyun a beat to catch his breath, Yifan tugs Joonmyun's shirt over his head to admire his handiwork, a collage of rosy pinks against pale, creamy skin. Just when Joonmyun thought he couldn't handle any more contact, Yifan decides to exploit Joonmyun's hypersensitivity to his fullest advantage. He tongues and suckles Joonmyun's overstimulated buds, pinning his hips in place when Joonmyun tries to squirm out of reach. Joonmyun is so worked up that the nudge of Yifan's thigh against his crotch is enough to pull Joonmyun into that agonizing place where he's  _almost there_.   
  
Yifan rests his chin on Joonmyun's chest and presses a finger to Joonmyun's lips, just to feel the velvety plushness. Without thinking, Joonmyun automatically parts his lips to suck on Yifan's fingertip in a way that is unexpectedly erotic. Yifan groans and pulls his hand away to drag his palm down Joonmyun's torso. He trails his damp fingertip through the thin line of soft hairs leading to a coarser patch of hair below Joonmyun's waistband.   
  
It takes only the barest brush of Yifan's warm, supple hand against Joonmyun's dick before his hips twitch involuntarily and he starts staining his boxers with his semen. Yifan makes a small, scoffing noise in surprise, and Joonmyun hides his eyes against Yifan's shoulder in embarrassment until the throbbing aftershocks ebb away.   
  
"You're so mean," Joonmyun grumbles into Yifan's collarbone.   
  
"Am I now?" Yifan asks with a hint of amusement.   
  
"It's so mean and unfair," Joonmyun continues, "that you make me feel this way."  
  
"That doesn't sound unfair to me."  
  
"I've tried so hard to be nice to you, but it only ever seemed to make you angry. I don't know what to do anymore. I hate that I still love you anyways, and I hate that even now, I'm the only one who seems to be affected at all."  
  
When Joonmyun lifts his head to glare at Yifan, his eyelashes are dark and moist with tears. Against his better judgment, Yifan starts laughing.   
  
"What the hell is wrong with you!" Joonmyun hisses. "I actually hate you. Why are you laughing at me?"  
  
"Because you're so wrong."  
  
Yifan takes one of Joonmyun's hands and guides it to his chest. Yifan's heart palpitates rapidly under Joonmyun's palm, and Joonmyun looks up to watch Yifan's face in wonder.   
  
"You did that," Yifan murmurs. "You made my heart beat so fast that my chest feels like it's going to burst."  
  
"I...did that..." Joonmyun repeats in awe, smiling proudly to himself.   
  
"You did this, too."  
  
He moves Joonmyun's hand down to his crotch, where he has visibly and tangibly tented his pajama pants. Yifan's obvious arousal causes Joonmyun to start giggling, all emotional strain forgotten. And the thought that doing little more than kissing and playing with Joonmyun's nipples had given Yifan a hard-on makes Joonmyun's cock start to feel heavy again, as well.   
  
"So, you, um, know how this works, right?" Yifan asks hesitantly. He has no idea what the extent of Joonmyun's sex knowledge is, and he doesn't want to try anything that Joonmyun isn't one hundred percent on board with.   
  
"We're going to need something to make it not hurt, right?"  
  
"Y-yeah, of course. And I'm going to try my best to make it not hurt for you, too. Ummm..." Yifan glances around the room to look for lotion or anything he could use as lubricant.   
  
"We have strawberry yogurt in the fridge,” Joonmyun suggests nonchalantly.  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Just kidding. Why don't you go to the bathroom to look for something?"  
  
While Yifan rifles through the medicine cabinet, Zitao taps quietly on the open bathroom door.   
  
"Duizhang?"  
  
"H-huh?! You're back already, Taozi?" Yifan's mind races for excuses to explain why he has an assortment of oils and lotions lined up on the porcelain counter. Thankfully, Zitao doesn't ask.   
  
"Were you and hyung fighting? Sehunnie and I heard noises as we passed by Joonmyun-hyung's room."  
  
"No! Of course not! We were...uh...playing League! It gets pretty intense, you know?"  
  
Zitao nods sagely, and Yifan quickly thrusts a bottle into his pocket and shoves everything else back into the cabinet.   
  
When Yifan returns to the room, Joonmyun is reading the basketball doujinshi Yifan found under the bed. He is completely unclothed—his legs are crossed primly, with his half-hard cock resting atop his thighs.  
  
"What are you doing?! Anyone could have walked in here and seen you like this!" Yifan splutters. "And the maknaes heard us! They thought we were fighting."  
  
"But we were, weren't we?" Joonmyun muses without looking up from his manga. "Don't mind, we can just play some music to drown out the noise."  
  
He gestures at Sehun’s stereo system on top of their dresser. Yifan powers it on, and a vaguely familiar melody starts to fill the room.  
  
“Uh, would you mind changing the disc?” Joonmyun asks with a grimace. ”I don’t think that I would be comfortable with doing it to the Evangelion soundtrack.”  
  
“Yeah, me neither,” Yifan laughs in nervous bewilderment. He picks out a disc less likely to be a mood-killer and dials it up to a sufficient volume.   
  
Outside their open window, the sunset is at a meeting with sunrise, and Yifan drops the shades to shield them completely from the outside world. Harsh fluorescent illumination melts into the warm glow of Joonmyun's bedside lamp when he flips the light switch before joining Joonmyun in bed.   
  
He coats his fingers with the makeshift lubricant until they are sufficiently slick and then dabs the excess onto Joonmyun's puckered rim. Joonmyun shivers and bites his lip with a shaky nod when Yifan asks if he's ready. Yifan probes into him with long, cool fingers, and Joonmyun screws his eyes shut, grabbing onto the sheets for something to hold onto.   
  
"Are you doing okay?"   
  
"Y-yeah," Joonmyun grunts. "It just feels weird. But in a good way."  
  
Only after Yifan is knuckle-deep with three fingers in does he replace his digits with his cock. Joonmyun lets out a string of curses when Yifan sinks into him and starts rolling his hips. He leans down to suck filthily on Joonmyun's tongue as he rubs the tip of his thumb across the head of Joonmyun's cock. And again, it takes only a few tugs of Yifan's fist before Joonmyun shoots his load between their bellies.   
  
Limp and pliant, Joonmyun allows Yifan to bend his legs upward until his heels are resting on Yifan's shoulders. He keeps thrusting into Joonmyun like that until he reaches his own climax with a growl. Joonmyun locks his ankles around Yifan's back and pulls him down by the neck to kiss him on his own terms—deep and slow like they have all the time in the world.   
  
With their bare chests pressed together, Yifan feels Joonmyun's heartbeat pulse in rhythm with his own. He feels as though a string is knotted tightly around his ribs, connected to a corresponding knot situated in Joonmyun's little frame. He is suddenly afraid that if he and Joonmyun are separated too far apart, for too long, this connection would be snapped, and Yifan's heart would end up bleeding all over the floor.   
  
"Please say that you'll be mine," Yifan whispers. "Please say it quickly."  
  
"I will," Joonmyun promises solemnly. "I love you."  
  
  
  
  
"You promised, though!" Joonmyun whines, nearly stamping his foot in frustration. "I didn't come all the way here just to take videos of you shooting baskets!"  
  
"Okay, okay," Yifan concedes, "let me try one more time, and then I'll teach you how to play."  
  
"That's what you said five minutes ago," Joonmyun grumbles, but he positions his thumb over the "record" button, ready to capture the shot.   
  
He can't even deny that Yifan looks cool, dribbling the basket between his legs and dodging invisible players. The older leader looks like he could have stepped right out of the basketball manga that Joonmyun is so fond of. All within a split second, Yifan balances the ball on the pads of his fingers, aims with his elbow, and shoots. It flies in a curving arc in just the right trajectory so that it bounces against the backboard and swishes through the net.   
  
"Nothing but net!" Joonmyun cheers in English. "Nothing but net!"  
  
Yifan had taught Joonmyun a few phrases in English, but it’s clear that he doesn't have a full grasp on the finer points of the language just yet. "Not quite," Yifan chuckles. "But it was pretty cool, yeah?"  
  
"Yeah!" Joonmyun hollers in English as he bounds over to Yifan, leaping on his back. "Now teach me how to play basketball."  
  
Even though Yifan taunts Joonmyun about his height and holds the ball above his head, out of Joonmyun's reach, their basketball date is all that Joonmyun could have asked for, and more. Playing basketball with Yifan is something he has always wanted to do, especially after encountering a sports manga that quickly became one of his favorites when he realized that one of the characters reminded him of Yifan. Reading the manga had been a way for Joonmyun to tap into his fantasy of playing basketball with his yaoi boyfriend. But real life is even better, even though Joonmyun isn't very good at basketball in real life. Because in real life, Yifan is all his.   
  
Yifan lifts Joonmyun onto his shoulders and jogs over to the net so that the smaller leader can slam dunk the ball himself. Joonmyun may be on the short side for a basketball player, but he's small and quick, and when he's sitting on Yifan's shoulders, he’s truly on top of the world.  
  



End file.
